Firsts
by TheShoelessOne
Summary: Ben had never kissed anyone before, but he's sure he likes it now. BenAnnie


**Firsts**

He remembered what day it had been very clearly. Five days after his fourteenth birthday, still winter but that balmy sort of winter he'd gotten used to. Everything was still green outside and the air tasted thick and muggy with the promise of rain within hours or days; he still wasn't any good at predicting the weather, not here.

Ben was fourteen and didn't feel any different. He swore he remembered feeling different when he turned ten, that lovely double-digit. He was pretty sure the shift to thirteen had left him a different boy. But fourteen was strange. Fourteen was a limbo that he hadn't quite figured out yet. But the day was coming in and the black of night was turning quickly to dim gray light of morning. He tiptoed past the couch and the overturned Dharma beer cans, a brown paper bag in either hand and a blanket tucked into his shoulder bag. He still felt thirteen, but that didn't stop him from living on.

Work had already begun in the barracks, and Horace waved cheerfully from his front porch step, not yet in his work clothes but sprightly nonetheless. Ben gave a polite half-wave in return. There was still a bite in the air from the night before, but only a tingle on his arms and legs, something that caused his warm breath to fog up his glasses. The door to the game room stood slightly ajar, just where she told him to meet her before their trek.

They'd sat together under their tree--they called it _their_ tree, the one with the tendriled leaves and the "B and A" carved almost imperceptibly at the base of the trunk--and watched the sunrise on his birthday, but nothing more. Dharma didn't give birthday breaks. He'd driven away to The Swan to deliver supplies with his father, a tense and terse ride in which Ben didn't bother to mention his newly-discovered age. Annie had given him a Swiss Army Knife she'd found in her father's sock drawer, something he never used and would probably forget existed after a day or so. Ben reached into his back pocket just to make sure it was still there.

Ben pushed open the door to the game room with his shoulder, looking instantly about for her shadow. The lights were off, the light of the new day barely sifting in through the windows. He found her outline instantly, sitting and waiting on the edge of the ping-pong table. Her legs were too short to reach the ground, swinging like dual pendulums in a quiet rhythm. Dusty light from the windows caught her eyes as she looked up, the freckles splayed across her nose, and the white smile that lit up at his appearance.

"Hey," she said in the quiet voice of morning. She wore a sun dress, something blue that hung to her knees and left her skinny legs exposed. She wasn't wearing any shoes.

Ben shut the door behind him with his foot. "Hey."

He took the few steps necessary to stand before her and presented one of the brown paper bags into her waiting hands. "Hope you don't mind turkey," he said with a lopsided smile. "All we had."

"It's all we have, too," she said, peeking into the bag. "I coulda made my own lunch."

"It's all right," he said, eyes flicking sheepishly away. "He won't miss it."

Annie's smile fell slightly. Any mention of Roger Linus was a conversation killer in their circle. Ben didn't speak of him often, but Annie seemed to have a feminine sixth-sense about the whole situation. Her teeth disappeared behind her lips, which turned down as her eyes searched his face. He turned his gaze down to their feet; hers dangling more than an inch above the ground, his shoed and shifting anxiously.

"Hey," she said again, this time tighter and closer. She tipped his face up into the growing light, which he resisted with a twitch. Her hand went more firm under his chin and made him follow her movements. He didn't meet her eyes. Just under his left eye, across his cheekbone, she found a dull red mark from something the night before. If she squinted, she might have likened it to a hand-print.

"Ben, what'd he do?" She dropped her hand away and leaned in with a stern countenance, eyebrows drawn down and lower lip pouting out in seriousness.

He finally raised his eyes, kept eye contact for a good long moment, then shrugged it away. "I sassed back, nothing serious."

"It's gonna be a bruise," she tossed back. "Is it gonna be serious then?"

"No," he answered, just a notch under defensive. "It's not going to kill me."

She didn't seem convinced, and the both of them knew it. She shook her head once, sadly, then brushed a thumb across his wounded cheekbone. He swore she felt like electricity.

Annie leaned up into the space between them. Her lips felt cold against the hot skin where his father had hit him. It was only for a second, only one heart-stopping moment, which made Ben's mouth drop open. Annie pulled away, smirking in a small way that she hoped was encouraging. Ben's mouth couldn't, wouldn't close itself, and he was sure that he looked like a fish. _Too close, too close,_ his mind thundered. Not close enough. Annie's smile dropped away, that sixth-sense again.

Just the slightest tip of her head, that was all she needed. She tipped her head up and to the right, only just, and her lips moved up against his, still ajar.

He felt like the world suddenly shut off around them, only to realize that it was simply because his eyes had closed. Something soft and quiet she'd done with her lips, barely there but everywhere, like a shock-wave.

Then, the world came back as she pulled away. Just that one, sweet little kiss and she pulled back. Ben's eyes pried themselves open and found her lingering, noses touching, breathing the same pocket of air. He could feel the heat of his own face in their proximity, but he couldn't hate himself for blushing, no matter how much he wanted to. Her lips twitched up into a hopeful sort of smile.

He blanked. His mind wiped itself completely clean. Not a thought through either ear, he just stood staring forward at her with his mouth working silently. He thanked his lucky stars that his brain wasn't necessary at that point, and he leaned instinctually back forward to kiss her.

The sun lit up the inside of the game room like it had planned it, throwing yellow light and warmth against them as they made their connection. Her legs swung like pendulums on either side of him, her hands coming up to rest against the back of his head with her thumbs before his ears. He was sure he liked her fingers in his hair. He didn't know what to do with his hands, and they hung awkwardly near her waist for too long a time before they settled there. He could feel her smiling against his lips as he kissed her.

Something thumped outside the door, causing Ben to jolt back from her and nearly trip over himself. They met each other with wide-eyed stares across their space, two voices from outside the door interrupting their silence. Annie took only a moment, grabbing her bag lunch in one hand and launching herself off the ping-pong table. As she streaked by, she grabbed Ben by the hand and tore him from his spot. They were out the back door before the voices opened the front.

Their fingers stayed linked together as they dashed across the dewed grass toward their tree, and the sun hit the sky to turn all the windows to gold. As they fell to the ground at the base of the trunk, laughing and red to their eyebrows, Ben finally felt a little bit older.

* * *

AN: Hey folks, I am seriously working on the next chapter of _Playing Favorites_ but I got this idea in my head and it wouldn't go away. I watched "The Man Behind the Curtain" with commentary the other day and Darlton mentioned how important Annie is/was. And I miss Annie, to be honest. There's some Ben/Annie stuff floating around but I thought I should throw my own spin on their first kiss. Lemme know what you think, leave us some love, and STAY AWESOME!


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